


Jealousy Thy Name is Lance

by DancingDowager



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, Feelings, First Time, Getting Together, Jealous Keith (Voltron), Jealous Lance (Voltron), Jealousy, Laith, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, POV Lance (Voltron), Unwanted Advances, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 10:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingDowager/pseuds/DancingDowager
Summary: Finally, Lance gets some recognition. It's not a parade, but it is a party, and Lance will stop at nothing to enjoy himself with everyone... until an alien tries to enjoy themselves with Keith.





	Jealousy Thy Name is Lance

‘Jaipalaxtacouli’ didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it was Lance’s second-favourite planet. It even beat the one with the hot mermaids.

It was a beautiful place. Coran said it was a thriving tourist destination before the Galra occupied the galaxy, and the appeal was obvious. The largest city of pale, bulbous buildings sat amidst glittering black sand and spires of gleaming crystal. The tropical climate was more bearable at night, when the sky was velvet purple and the streets were lit by bobbing lanterns that stayed up by themselves. They were all in shades of pink and orange, making patterns like blossoms on the walls, wrapping the people in a flattering warm glow.

The local aliens were beautiful too: slender and graceful, not one of them shorter than Shiro. Like Lance, they were two-thirds leg, but theirs tapered to hooves like pointed slippers. Otherwise they looked pretty human-like: two legs, two arms, one head and the regular assortment of facial features. They had eyes like cats’: jewel-bright colour with slit pupils, and rather than hair they had manes that wrapped over their collar-bones and trailed down their spines. Their skin was metallic, ranging from silver-white through to burnished gold.

There was a _lot_ of skin on show. Enough to make Hunk blush and Shiro frown, for Allura to add a few whispered words to the effect of ‘ _Don’t stare_ ’. The Jaipalaxtacoulians (or Jaipalaxtacoulites or whatever) were dressed in gauzy, floaty material draped and wrapped around them like toga-themed lingerie. There were other alien species present, former prisoners and visitors to the planet, but for once there was something Lance looked at more than the guy with six legs.

Allura would just have to forgive him that one. Even Pidge struggled to find a safe place for her eyes... but then, she was lower down.

The Jaipalaxtacoulids had decided that the best way to celebrate the galaxy’s liberation was with a city-wide street party. Team Voltron were invited as guests of honour. Eager to coax the planet’s leaders into joining the coalition, Allura judged it unpolitic to refuse.

So. They had a night off.

Lance hadn’t realised how badly they all needed a night off.

And oh, those aliens knew how to party.

Four hours after they started, everyone was still dancing. Music drifted from inside every building; a few dozen bands had set up on different street corners to wild cheers. One melody fell into another and then another with no discernible beginning or end, only a constant pounding beat to keep them connected and everyone moving. Tables had been set out with strangely coloured food and drink, and not a blob of goo in sight. After a quick check by Pidge and Coran, they discovered it wasn’t just edible but delicious. Lance downed six cups of a violently yellow liquid that fizzed and popped on his tongue, tasted sort of like citrus pumpkin, and made his limbs loose and tingly. Pidge loved it so much that when they ran out she scrambled up on his back and set them off on a quest to find more, pointing and laughing and urging him on with her knees. Allura smiled when she reminded them not to get too carried away.

They’d drifted apart into the bustling crowds, but the last time Lance saw the princess she was laughing at Coran’s attempts to teach the six-legged alien an Altean waltz.

Lance was glad. Allura probably needed the rest more than anyone, except maybe Shiro. Lance managed to snag a dance with her too, (promising he’d tell the story to their future children), and then with Hunk and Pidge. Shiro could only dad dance and tripped on his feet, but it was almost a relief to find something the guy _wasn’t_ good at. Lance even danced with Coran, and it turned out the moustachioed major-domo could really waltz.

Lance caught sight of Keith laughing when Coran dipped him like a heroine in a musical, and even upside-down it was enough to make his heart jump. When he curtseyed farewell to the Altean man and made his way over, Keith was back to scowling and no amount of persuasion or taunting could make him join in.

“I don’t dance,” he insisted, pulling his arm out of Lance’s grip and stubbornly folding them.

“You scared, Samurai? Come on, even Shiro is trying.”

Amusement sparked in Keith’s eyes, sort of violet under pink lantern-light, as he glanced over at Shiro’s one-man shuffle. Still, he shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

“Your loss,” Lance sniffed, throwing his arms wide and winking. “I’m going to find me a dance partner!”

When he did, (without too much trouble because he was a _hero_ now), he made sure to spin them both past Keith, to catch his eye and wink.

After that partner came another. Lance lost Hunk somewhere near a buffet, talking excitedly about engines with some silver dude from a planet in the same solar-system, and he was pretty sure Pidge had holed up under a table with snacks, mangled drone parts and mischievous intentions. He hadn’t seen Allura or Coran for a while, and the last time he saw Shiro, the Black Paladin was trying to sneak off to nap, pursued by alien admirers. Lance had a much better game when Shiro wasn’t around acting like an inter-species flirt magnet, so he didn't follow.

Lance wasn’t too worried to be on his own. Pidge had installed little trackers in their Paladin suits after the last wormhole incident. Any of the team could find him if he was needed, and a glance at his wrist would tell him roughly where they all were. Keith was closest by; a little red dot on the display. Lance saw him in the flesh sometimes: prowling round the edges of things, close to the walls, scowling enough that no-one approached him. Lance sometimes wondered if they should project Keith’s angry face ahead of them when fighting Galra, just to see how many ran away.

Keith glared all the more the next time he dropped by Lance. The Blue Paladin was charming a quartet of aliens. Any of them could have held the title of ‘Most Beautiful Girl Lance Has Ever Seen’ comfortably if it weren't for Allura. They had him sitting up on a wall at almost eye-level while he told the story of his exploits in the recent battle. He was gesticulating with his arms (he might have been exaggerating _slightly_ , just for effect) when he spotted Keith between their glossy manes, apparently listening as well. Lance chanced to give him a sly smile as he talked, waving a hand with four fingers raised deliberately in his direction. Keith’s head tilted for a moment like a confused puppy before realisation widened his eyes. They promptly narrowed again in a deep scowl, and Keith stomped off.

Lance grinned.

After a while he finished his story and the belle quartet drifted away, leaving Lance free to track Keith down. He found him sulking in a little plaza nearby, where alien couples twirled round and round each other and a shining fountain in the centre.

“So which Galra stole your cookies?” he asked, sliding in to lean against the wall next to the Red Paladin.

Keith frowned, head cocked in Lance’s direction while he worked that sentence out. Lance tried not to think it was adorable. Keith looked away again.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh sure, looks like it,” Lance scoffed, nudging Keith's shoulder. He held himself like a coiled spring. “Come on, buddy. Relax! This might be our last chance to kick back for a while.”

“Someone has to stay alert,” Keith mumbled, but Lance knew he could win that argument.

“Literally everyone in the coalition is keeping an eye on us right now. Nothing’s going to happen if you try and enjoy yourself for once.”

Keith didn’t seem to have a proper answer, and the half-shrug and sidelong look he gave Lance didn’t count. Fortunately, Lance had spotted a drinks table on the other side of the plaza, so he pushed his advantage.

“At least have a drink with me,” he demanded, grabbing Keith’s hand to pull him across the square. He took the long way around, avoiding the couples. A few heads turned, bright eyes following their progress.

“Is that a good idea?” Keith protested, following, and Lance looked back to make sure Keith saw him rolling his eyes.

“Don't be a party-pooper, Keith. It's not like this is actually booze.”

Lance picked up two cups of the yellow drink he’d enjoyed earlier, pushing one into Keith’s hands. The slightly shorter boy sniffed at it, cautiously. His nose wrinkled, and there was no denying _that_ was adorable.

“How do you know?”

Lance inhaled over his own cup. It smelled something like mint and cut grass, not bad but not exactly like any Earth beverage. “Well, Coran didn’t tell us _not_ to drink it or anything. Me and Pidge had a few bottles between us.”

Keith scanned him for a second and then shrugged. “Okay.”

Lance downed his when Keith did, watching from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. Keith was still for just a moment before he peered at the cup in his hand in surprise.

“That’s actually really good,” he admitted, as though he’d expected a trick. (Lance would have to remember that idea for next time).

He grinned, already feeling the tingling in his fingertips. When the popping and jumping feeling started in his mouth, Keith’s twisted.

“Woah.”

“Nice, huh?” Lance encouraged, wondering if Hunk could learn to make something like it. Keith nodded, and Lance’s belly did a strange little grab and twist when Keith’s tongue ran over his bottom lip. He couldn’t help but lick his own.

“Bet I can drink more than you.”

Keith smirked. “You’re on, Sharpshooter.”

A crowd formed around them as they played, and for once Keith didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with Lance over the brim of every new cup, and with his tongue jumping like a bucket of frogs and his head swimming, Lance was no longer prepared to swear this stuff wasn’t alcoholic. It would explain why he felt increasingly unable to stand under the grey-blue stare.

He’d lost count but was surely winning when he was distracted by a hand on his free wrist. A gorgeous alien with gunmetal skin, black mane and magenta eyes looked down at him over a smile.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone do that before.”

“Want to see what else I can do?” Lance answered, as smoothly as he could manage. The bubbly drink had given him hiccups.

The alien laughed, pretty and heady, and her voice set into a purring tone. “I think I do.”

They talked a bit more (and Lance managed to get off a few of his best lines) before he actually showed her something else. He managed a one-handed handstand – a trick his sister taught him that was a lot harder with hiccups – before he realised that Keith was gone and hadn’t seen it.

“Hey,” he said when he was the right way up again, “did you see where my buddy went?”

“The Red Paladin? No. I was looking at you.”

“I better find him,” Lance said, slicking his hair back dramatically and making sure to give her his best angle, a parting gift. “A Paladin’s work is never done, I'm afraid.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

“I see."

The hand left his forearm. Lance bowed.

“May we meet again,” he cooed.

She turned away. She didn’t look as thrilled as he might have hoped.

Lance slipped past her and called up his tracker. The crowd that had formed around them had dispersed back to dancing or moved towards the busier streets. Keith had gone that way: the angry red dot a surprising distance from Lance’s blue. Apparently he wasn’t keen to stick around.

Looking for Keith in the crowds was hard, even with the tracker. The Jaipalaxtacoulitides were so tall Lance was forced to look between them, rather than over them like he was used to. He snaked through heaving bodies as nimbly as he could, winking and smiling apologies when he miss-stepped, until the blue and red dots on the display were almost overlapping. He was surrounded by chattering groups speaking in rolling, rumbling voices like engines. He could see a lot of naked limb and muscle in his immediate radius but no Keith, so he made for the nearest table and clambered on it. Most of the food had been eaten, anyway.

Looking down on hundreds of happy alien people, their manes shining in the dappled light of buoyant lanterns, Lance had a moment to wonder on how this became his life. A party on another planet, a snatched respite in the middle of intergalactic war, looking for Keith Kogane of all people.

Then he saw him. Just. Good thing he really did know that mullet anywhere, because it was blink-and-he’d-miss-it, but Keith was following a caramel-gold man out of the main street. Lance jumped off the table, tripped, righted himself and then managed a more agile squirm through the crowd to the corner they’d taken.

He heard Keith before he rounded it.

“You said you had something to show me?”

Wait. What?

“Perhaps,” replied a male voice. Lance snuck closer, carefully peering round the corner to avoid being seen.

It looked like an alley; a shortcut between roads or to the back of some building. There were no lanterns, but enough light spilled from either end to illuminate the alien male and Keith. The other guy was at least a foot taller, even lounging against the wall. Which Lance was sure he was doing to show off his physique, because if _he_ had a body like that, he sure would. The alien man was all taut muscle, toga-lingerie thing gaping open over his chest and legs, built like a Greek statue who never missed leg day. He was looking down at Keith with blue eyes; bright like sapphires held up to the sun.

“Shall we start with names?” The alien suggested. Keith straightened a little, as though remembering himself.

"I'm Keith. The Red Paladin," he said, sticking his hand out stiffly like a bad actor in a daytime drama.

The alien smiled, sliding his palm over the coloured part of Keith's bracer before gripping round the wrist. "So I see." He waited until Keith's eyes were back on his before continuing. "I am Luraazi. Delighted to get to know you, Keith."

The name reminded Lance of toothpaste being squeezed from a tube; sticky and cold. He pronounced 'Keith' strangely too, like he was saying ‘Keev’ or ‘Keef’ instead. Lance was almost indignant on Keith's behalf: they'd risked their lives to free these people, and this dude couldn't even get his name right? Not even when he was fondling Keith's gauntlets?

Keith nodded slowly. "I’m… delighted to get to know you too. Luraazi." he said awkwardly, obviously remembering Allura's advice regarding respecting local customs.

Luraazi practically purred. "It is good to hear you say so. I've never had an opportunity to speak with anyone like you before."

Keith half-shrugged, apparently unwilling to move the arm Luraazi held. He kept glancing at the touch like it was a difficult maths problem he couldn't figure out. "We're from far away."

Normally those words would have pulled at something inside Lance, a frayed edge that kept unravelling, but right now he was too concerned with how Luraazi's fingers moved to brush the inside of Keith's arm.

"Oh yes?" Luraazi prompted, dragging Keith's gaze away from the stroking. "Is everyone there as beautiful as you?"

He said it so easily, so shamelessly, that for a fraction of a second Lance could have envied him. Luraazi sounded like all the best parts of a running motor, and Keith's eyes were almost round.

"I'm sorry?"

Lance bit down on his tongue, his chestplate scraped against the wall when his fingers tightened on the surface. It felt like rough plaster, digging into his skin as he pressed closer to make sure he heard every word.

"You are surprised," Luraazi murmured, treacle soft, making Lance think of toothpaste again. "Are you not asked this often?"

"No."

Keith sounded like he was trying to speak around a tennis ball. His eyes flicked to his forearm again.

"Do your companions in Voltron not tell you you're beautiful?"

"No."

"They should," Luraazi said. He leaned over Keith, and his free hand slipped round Keith's other arm. Keith had to crane his head up to keep looking into Luraazi's eyes, and it left his neck open. Lance could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Luraazi's voice lowered, his touch and his tone caressing. "They would have to be sightless to not see it... but I am happy to tell you so for them."

"Th-thankyou?" Keith said, his weight shifting towards his heels, eyes still wide. Lance would put money on Luraazi eating Keith’s fist in the near future, as soon as Keith got his head together.  

The alien man kept leaning, one hand finally releasing its grip to trail up past Keith's shoulder. Two fingers with wickedly sharp nails followed the stretch of his throat until they were underneath his chin.

"I'm delighted to do so, Paladin. I'd like to tell you such things often. And far more besides."

Luraazi bent down, and Lance moved too late. Keith didn’t move at all, frozen like the proverbial rabbit. Luraazi licked across his mouth with open eyes.

The alien pulled away, just barely, and leaned back in again before Keith finally caught up.

The Red Paladin made a strangled noise and shoved Luraazi backwards, using the alien's hold to throw him off balance. Lance ducked behind the wall before he was spotted, savage pleasure gripping his belly. Allura would kill them if there was a fuss, but surely thumping Luraazi once or twice wouldn’t count?

"Keith?" Luraazi asked, the slightly-off pronunciation even worse. It was sharp, but Lance couldn't tell if he was hurt or confused or angry.

Keith didn’t answer. Lance peered around the wall again to see him flushed with his chest heaving, staring Luraazi down. The alien huffed.

"Ah. That was not what you were expecting, I assume. If you'd like to show me what your kind prefers-"

"No," Keith interrupted, and Lance could have punched the air in victory. "I won't. I -" Keith's throat worked for a second without finding words, "I'm not interested, okay?"

Silently, Lance cheered.

Keith was standing straight with square shoulders, but he still had to look up at Luraazi because of the height difference. The alien man was trying to make use of it, pulling himself up so every inch he had on Keith was more obvious. Keith didn’t look phased, and why should he? Keith took on Galra and won; Lance was confident he could take out Luraazi if he wanted to. Lance would even help, just to be sure.

Luraazi's voice snapped in the air. "You certainly _seemed_ interested until a moment ago. _Delighted_ , even."

"I didn't mean-" Keith began, but he frowned and stopped himself, his face hard. "Doesn't matter. I'm not."

"Yet you were so _eager_ when I found you all alone. What changed your mind?"

Keith glared. "I didn't change my mind. I just didn't - _anyway_ , I like someone else."

The bottom dropped out of Lance's heart.

Oh. Oh.

"Oh," said Luraazi, long and slow. "I understand now. Someone from your home, far away? Or one of your companions, maybe?"

Colour rose in Keith's face and the hole through Lance's middle stretched way down to the floor.

"-no," Keith said finally, too weakly to be believable.

"So it is," murmured Luraazi, and he almost sounded genuinely sympathetic. Almost. When had he managed to get so close again?

"And yet they don't take the time to tell you how beautiful you are. They don't care? That must be lonely."

Keith didn’t answer, and Lance's nails were pressing so hard into his palms he was sure the fabric of his gloves would tear.

"There is no shame in being lonely, Keith," Luraazi pressed, rolling voice slipping into lower registers, under Lance's skin, pervasive. "Nor in comforting yourself when you can, or with whom you can..." Luraazi reached out towards Keith's arm again, voice laden as it sank even lower, closer to the bone, "...particularly if you’re far from home, and in the middle of a war... They should know if they don't care for you, others will. You deserve that, surely? You deserve to be cared for. To be touched."

It was too much.

"Keith!"

Lance stepped into the alley wearing a combination of his most winning smile and his deadliest glare. He marched right up to Keith and settled hands on his shoulders, turning the shocked paladin to face him rather than his would-be lover.

"Where have you been?" he asked, some of it coming out between his teeth, squeezing Keith's shoulders a little harder than was strictly friendly. "You just disappeared on me, buddy. You shouldn’t leave me alone like that."

Keith's mouth was open, but he recovered fast. "You _weren't_ alone. I was just-"

"Whatever dude, I've got to talk to you." Lance took advantage of Keith's shock to slide an arm around his shoulder, clamping him firmly to his own side.

"Paladin business," he announced into Luraazi's face. "You wouldn't understand."

Luraazi frowned.

"Anyway, better go get to it. Paladin stuff. With Voltron. You know, the big angry robot? Which we fly? So, yeah. See ya," Lance dismissed, already steering Keith out of the alley and into the crowd.

Lance threw them through the maze of bodies, seizing Keith's hand when it became too narrow to stand side by side. He kept them moving until they were out of that street and had crossed a few more, eventually slowing down when he lead them into a little garden space. It was deserted; too crowded with plants to be any good for dancing or groups, and even the music seemed a little quieter, muffled by the leaves.

Keith pulled his hand out of Lance's and made him stop.

"What’s going on, Lance? What paladin business?"

"Well," Lance spat, spinning on his heel to meet Keith's glare pound for pound. "How about we start with the Red Paladin going down dark alleyways with strangers, huh? You telling me you never got that memo? Because common sense to Keith here: it’s a bad idea. _Obviously_."

"It wasn't dark!" Keith argued, then clenched his jaw when he realised that was stupid. "I can look after myself, Lance. Why do you care?"

"Why do I care? I just rescued you!"

"I didn't need - ”

"He was touching you! He _licked your face_.”

Keith's arm jumped to scrub at his mouth automatically; fiercely satisfying to Lance even as his stomach plummeted. He counted the seconds until the obvious hit Keith and he lowered his arm.

"You were watching?"

“I, uh…”

“What did you hear?” Keith demanded.

Lance looked at his feet. There was shiny black sand stuck on his toes.

“I heard that you like someone,” he admitted. Wow, it hurt to say it out loud.

Lance winced through Keith’s inhale, through the pause that opened up between them and swallowed up their breathing, his pulse going too fast.

“Forget about it, Lance,” Keith said.

Lance looked up. “Is it Shiro?” he asked, unable to stop himself because apparently he was a sucker for heartache and wanted this all to be over with now, cut out like an infection. Still, he hoped Keith would say no. He’d be able to cope, he thought, if it turned out that Keith really liked Allura or Pidge all along. Because if Keith was only into girls then that was one thing; it would _suck_ but couldn’t be helped. But if he was into guys and he liked _Shiro_ , well… it’s not like Lance could compete.

He’d never really stood a chance with Keith anyway.

“It’s not-“ Keith stopped himself so quickly he might have bitten his own tongue. “I said forget it,” he gritted, anger biting into his tone.

“I mean, I can see why you would,” Lance went on, because apparently he was a sucker for punishment too, “but… do you?”

Keith’s hands had balled into fists. “It’s… none of your business, Lance!”

“Except it totally is!” Lance’s voice rose to meet Keith’s, climbing the octave, hands forming shaking fists of his own. “We’re a _team_ , and there’s _Voltron_ , and I really, _really_ don’t want to mess that up because I’m obsessing over who you chose instead and I _will_ if you don’t tell me, so if you could just put me out of my misery now that’d be great!”

He gasped into the warm air. Muted music pushed at the edges of their bubble, not getting in. It was just him and Keith, for the moment. Wide-eyed and angry and staring at each other.

Keith found his voice first, hands uncurling. “What does that mean?” 

Lance couldn’t hold his eye. He studied his feet again instead, wiping sand off on the fronds of a large fern.

“It’s obvious now, right? Especially after the whole knight-in-shining-armour stunt I pulled back there.”

He didn’t look up, but he heard Keith’s weight shift on the path. “I don’t get it.”

Lance pulled himself up. This might be one of the worst moments of his space adventure yet, but if it had to go down he was going to handle it like a paladin. Keith had enough reasons to laugh at him.

“I like you. You’re grouchy and hot-headed and have a _mullet_ , but you’re also pretty amazing at almost everything and I just can’t help but like you.”

Keith stared. Lance stared back until he couldn’t take it anymore and flinched aside to rub the back of his neck.

“So I’m an interested party, you could say? And it would seriously help me out if you told me who you’re into, so I can start getting over you.”

Lance had tried getting over it. It went about as well as his plans usually did.

“Wait,” Keith snapped, stepping forward and grabbing his elbow, gripping it hard enough to hurt. “You’re saying you like me? As in 'like' like? Like... _that_?”

Lance really wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too worked up. Keith’s hand on his elbow was claiming far too much of his attention and with it, all the chance he had of playing this off smoothly.

“Yeah, buddy.”

He hesitated, waiting for Keith’s reaction. It didn’t come. Not for one, two, three, four seconds.

“Don’t laugh,” Lance warned, trying to keep his tone light. “Don’t laugh, because I swear I will shoot you with my bayard. I promise.”

“You’re lying.” Keith countered, flatly.

“Oh I'll do it, Keith. I'll get you in the kneecaps, watch me.”

“There is no way you 'like' like me,” Keith hissed.

Lance blinked. “Dude, what?”

“You like girls.”

“I can like both!”

“You’re always flirting with Allura.”

“Yeah, but not _seriously_. Just look at her!”

“You have never once flirted with a guy, Lance. Ever.”

“I’ve tried flirting with _you_ more than once!”

Keith’s grip on his elbow slipped. So did his jaw, leaving his mouth gaping open. Lance shifted on his feet, rubbing his neck again.

“Come on, Keith. I’m into aliens: you can’t seriously think I’d be fussy about human junk.”

Keith looked lost. “But if you like me, why were you flirting with that woman earlier? Or the _four_ before that? Or the two you were dancing with?”

“Okay, look, don’t get mad or anything, but I didn’t know you were already into someone else and I think I might have been trying to make you jealous."

“ _Lance_!”

“I said don’t get mad!”

“So you’re telling me,” Keith growled, “that you like _me_ , so you flirted with _other people_.”

“Dude, don’t say it like that-“

“-only you never actually _said_ you liked me, so when I actually _was_ jealous and left, you-” Keith gasped. “-you followed me and got jealous! _You_ did! You're a hypocrite, Lance!”

“Wait wait wait, hold the phone, hold the phone! You _were_ jealous?” Lance interrupted.

Keith went red. Lance watched as the blush crawled over his cheek-bones and down the pale curve of his throat, under the neck of his flight-suit. Time stretched to infinity and back.

“It’s _me_ ,” Lance wondered, faintly. There was a buzzing in his skull suspiciously like joy. “It’s me. The person you like is me.”

“And you actually like me back,” Keith muttered.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, breathless. “Yeah, I really do.”

They looked at each other. Keith probably couldn’t go redder.

“Well,” said Lance, chest filling with dizzying warm air. “Well that’s _awesome_.”

Keith snorted a laugh, face splitting with the width of his grin. “Awesome, really? That's what you have to say?”

“You’re hardly Shakespeare, wise guy. Besides,” Lance sauntered into Keith’s personal space, limbs light with relief and happiness, nerves finally, blissfully banished, at least for now. His smirk interfered with his seductive croon. “You’ll call it awesome when I kiss you, baby.”

“You’re not going to kiss me if you call me _baby,_ ” Keith retorted, shoving his shoulder and holding on.

“Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my life. Loverboy.”

“Cut it out!”

Lance smirked wider. “Pumpkin, sugar plum, snuggle-!”

Keith's hand enveloped the back of Lance’s head, pulling him in to meet his mouth. It was hot and messy and the angle was off, but after a moment of registering only the awkward crick in his neck and bumped noses, Lance shifted into it. He got his hands up to sit on Keith's waist and adjusted his position and didn't frantically run over everything he'd ever known about kissing in his head because he was too busy doing it.

Keith pulled away only a fraction. "No more stupid names," he growled against Lance's lips.

"Mmmhhmmuh," Lance said, or something like that, because Keith's mouth met his again, and kissing was more fun than talking anyway.

Keith must have thought so too, because he didn’t stop for quite a while. When they finally separated they were both pink, and Lance was pretty sure Keith tucked his head under Lance’s chin to try and hide it.

"Holy Crow," he puffed over Keith's hair. Keith had kissed his vocabulary out of him. "Holy Crow."

Keith made a noise into his throat, and Lance squeezed his waist gently.

"Keith?"

"Mmh."

"Should we…" Lance began, music filtering through the blood in his ears as he slowly re-joined the world outside the boy in his arms. "Should we go somewhere else? Maybe somewhere less public?"

Keith lifted his head, and Lance breathed in when he saw the glassy look to his eyes. He gazed slowly around as though getting his bearings, oblivious to Lance's internal celebrations at having done that to Keith by kissing him.

Eventually he focused again. "Yeah. Castle?"

Lance nodded and scooped Keith's hand into his, winding their fingers together.

"Race you there, Samurai."

 

 

Lance couldn’t have reached the Castle of Lions faster if he'd had a case of the Slipperies, roller blades and Zarkon himself behind him. 

He beat Keith to the lounge with whole ticks to spare, but before he could say 'I win' the Red Paladin tackled him. They toppled down onto the seats, and actually the whole manoeuvre was less thrilling than it looked in movies, because he was a bit winded and disoriented and trying his best not to knee or elbow Keith as he fell on top. Their armour scraped together, got caught and jabbed each other in the soft sections as they wriggled until they could make out again.

Making out with Keith felt a lot like the fall had; breathless and dizzy. It wasn't neat or perfect: there were slips of teeth and tongue and misplaced lips, and it didn’t matter. Keith's breath smelled minty and grassy from the yellow alien drink, and his hair of sweat and the rubber-plastic coating on their helmets. Lance had one hand woven into it and the other resting somewhere on Keith. It was hard to tell exactly where through the gloves and clinging high-tech space fabric, and honestly the paladin suits were beginning to feel more than a little frustrating.

Keith levered himself up and panted over him, hair falling round his face. There were little blue flecks in his eyes Lance could only see from this close.

"Your hair is messed up."

"Still better than yours," Lance answered, without really having to think about it. Which was fortunate, because he couldn’t think of much besides liking that shade of blue and wanting to get both of them out of their gear, preferably together.

Keith's nose scrunched up when he scowled, which was utterly sweet and a total giveaway that he wasn't actually annoyed. He sat up, almost straddling Lance's thighs, one leg folded on the seat and the other braced against the floor. Lance propped himself up on his elbows and tried not to fidget. He was pretty sure his growing erection hadn't been noticed thus far, but it was getting tight. He didn't know if they were at the 'is that your bayard in your armour or are you just pleased to see me' stage yet.

Keith folded his arms, smirking. "I think you like my hair."

Lance popped his mouth open dramatically. "That's slander, Keith."

"You like touching it though," Keith countered. His cheeks pinked when he said it, and really, Lance was almost dizzy with how cute that was. Or maybe it was all his blood rushing south, because the next words out of his mouth were:

"Maybe I just like touching you."

The words hung in the air like a risk. Lance swallowed his heartbeat a few times over.

"You could," Keith said hesitantly, tentatively. He was quiet, glancing up through unfairly long lashes. "If you wanted."

Lance's erection throbbed, insisting that he did, in fact, want that. Very much.

"Only if you do," he heard himself say, high pitched. His heart and groin were apparently not communicating, because Lance wasn't sure if he was crushed or relieved when Keith hesitated.

"Not in here," he said, jerking his head at the lounge. "But... yeah. Your room?"

"Sure," Lance agreed, again not really sure who was managing his speech at the moment. Keith unfolded himself and offered Lance a hand to stand up. Only then did Lance realise his hands were shaking, and when he was on his feet he wrapped his fingers tighter around Keith's rather than let go.

They didn't talk on the way, and with every step Lance's mouth went drier. The walk was far too short for him to get himself together, and far too long in every other way. Eventually they got there, and before he knew it the door was sliding closed behind them both.

"So..." Lance began, free hand fiddling with his hair, "do you want the tour, or...?"

Keith was frowning when Lance dared to look over.

"Of what?"

"My place, you know?" he trailed off, because Keith clearly did not know that Lance was trying to reference.

"Our rooms are identical, Lance."

"Yeah, it's meant to be a joke... you know what, forget it."

There was a slight downwards tug in his clasped hand. If Lance wasn't hyper aware of Keith's every move he might have missed it.

"Sorry," Keith muttered. "I'm not good at this stuff."

"Hey, no problemo, man. Don't sweat it, no worries. Gotcha covered here."

The grip on his hand tightened.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah man, totally! No frowns in Lance town." It felt like a lie. Lance could see his nerves reflected back at him in Keith's eyes. "I mean, I guess... I might be just a little bit nervous."

Immediately Lance felt Keith try and pull his hand away, his head bowing. "If you don't want to –"

"No no no no, it's not that, okay?" Lance replied, turning towards Keith and grabbing for the other hand even as Keith tried to extract himself. "This is literally a dream come true, I just never thought I'd get this far. With you, I mean. Because obviously I could totally get here with someone else. If I wanted.”

He wished he’d shut up.

Keith had stopped struggling, breathing deep. His limbs relaxed against Lance's hold and the Blue Paladin had a little miniature heart attack when Keith's tongue poked at his lip, a smile that looked like a secret curling his mouth.

"You had a dream about me? About us?"

 Oh quiznak.

"Well, okay, yes. Yes, I did. A few. In a totally normal, not creepy, healthy crush sort of way. That's all. They didn't mean any -"

Keith shifted fractionally closer, and Lance almost stepped back without thinking. He caught himself in time and made himself stay still, arms dangling at their sides with their hands still joined.

"What were they like?" Keith asked.

He'd done something to his voice. Or his eyes, or _something_ , because suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Lance felt like he was watching Keith's face through a microscope, searching for his reaction.

 "What do you mean?"

"Your dreams. What did we do?"

"Keith!" Lance swallowed, making himself look away before he counted the eyelashes. "That's kind of personal, man."

Not to mention pornographic. And sappy. Lance wasn't sure when the dreams of heat and skin and whispered moans had morphed to include laughing together, smiling together, dates back in Cuba and ice cream on the beach, but they had. These days the ratio of smut to sap had to be about fifty fifty.

"Lance."

Lance froze when Keith dropped his head onto his shoulder, half sighing.

"I haven't done this before. If you have a plan, that'd help."

Lance closed his eyes.

He could do this. He had to do this, or he'd never forgive himself. Keith _wanted_ him to. Maybe that was enough.

He gently unwound his hands from Keith's, sliding them up his legs to rest on his hips, just below the belt. Keith's settled on his waist.

"I wouldn't call it a plan, okay? Some of the dreams I had were kind of intense for us right now."

Keith nodded just once into his shoulder and Lance kept going.

"...and it's not like they left me with instructions..."

Keith snorted, almost laughed, and the little shake that ran down his neck and back was warmth in Lance's chest.

"...so I can't promise I'll blow your mind right away, but I would like to, you know... see you. And touch you properly."

"Okay."

"You sure?"

Keith's head popped up with a red flush and a frown. "Let's do something, okay! I'm going to explode."

That didn't help Lance keep his head any.

"Well, wouldn’t want that, huh?" He squeezed out, too breathless to be properly smooth. "So, uh..." He pressed the central button on Keith's belt with one hand, pulling it away. Keith stiffened and gasped a little. Lance waited for him to settle and relax before he moved his hands to the magnetic seals on the chest piece, and after a moment Keith's lifted to do the same for him.

In theory, it should have been easy: no more difficult than taking off their own, identical set. It wasn't that simple when they were reaching around each other, elbows getting in the way. The hardest part for Lance was after he dropped to his knees to help Keith out of his boots and greaves. He made the mistake of looking up.

Keith was leaning heavily on the wall behind him, staring down his body at Lance with hooded eyes and his chest surging. His body now being clad only in skin-tight black flight-suit, which was a good look on him. It also made it pretty clear that Lance wasn't the only paladin round here nursing a semi, which made it a lot more difficult for him to stand back up.

He took his own greaves and boots off himself, raising an eyebrow as Keith’s gaze tracked his fingers.

Keith looked away when he caught it. "S'good. Your legs."

"Aahhh, so Samurai is a legs kinda guy," Lance sing-songed, preening when he stood up. Compliments from Keith felt like acing the flight simulator, or pulling off a complex manoeuvre in Blue. They pulled his back straighter and lifted his chin.

"I guess," Keith agreed, recovering enough to look back when Lance edged in, that much closer without the armour plates. "You?"

Lance couldn’t honestly pick a favourite part of Keith. He couldn’t resist teasing, though.

"Guess we'll find out," he said, smoothing a hand up Keith's chest to his neck, fingers brushing against the sliver of exposed skin there. He didn't start pulling at the suit-fastening until Keith tilted his head to let him.

Watching the flight-suit come off was one of the most painfully erotic things he'd seen in his life. The thick, rubbery fabric rolled down like a wetsuit would, unpeeling Keith like a fruit. Underneath he was hard planes of porcelain skin, smooth over lean muscle. He wasn't broad. There was a tiny beauty spot on his collar bone Lance loved on sight, and a few purple shadows from retreating bruises he didn't. The flight-suit dangled from Keith's hips with just the runched top of his boxers peeking out the top. Lance was almost too busy looking at it all to register that Keith was giving him the same treatment, twitching when his own suit came to rest in the same place.

He wasn't built like Keith was. He couldn’t take the staring.

Lance poked Keith's belly button.

"You're wearing _blue_ boxers," he said suggestively, as though Keith's underwear choices were relevant to anything except distracting Keith from his own lanky torso.

"Yours are pink."

"These are rose."

"That’s pink."

"So? I look great in these."

"Yeah," Keith agreed, and Lance tried not to fall over. The grey-blue eyes raked up and down his chest again, and Keith's hands slid onto the bare skin of Lance's hips. They were cool, and his little callouses rasped a little, shivery in a good way. Keith's thumbs fit very nicely into the creases above Lance's hip bones, and he pushed his fingers down into the flight-suit to get the rest of it off.

Lance tried, but he couldn't really take Keith's off at the same time, so after a moment of fumbling they resorted to stepping out of their own. There was some staggering from both of them, clinging fabric leggings not the easiest things to remove at the best of times, and particularly challenging when sporting straining erections and trying not to look stupid in front of the source inspiration. And especially for Lance, who couldn't quite get over the avid attention Keith was paying to his calves.

"Wow. You really like my legs, huh?"

"You're all pretty," Keith muttered, and Lance's heart jumped.

"Pretty?"

Keith's head shot up, panic making his eyes wide. "Handsome?" he tried instead, desperate.

Lance chuckled. It was certainly not a giggle, and certainly not at all hysterical.

"Pretty is okay. I'm cool with being pretty."

"Y-yeah?" Keith asked carefully. He reached out to run his hands over Lance's ribs, moving slowly to give Lance plenty of time to stop him if he liked. He didn't.

"Yeah. And you are, too." Lance ran a thumb over Keith's abs.

Keith flinched backwards.

"K-Keith?"

Oh quiznak. Quiznak. He'd messed up, somehow.

"Sorry, I'm fine," Keith muttered, fixing Lance with a look. "You can carry on."

Lance hesitated before doing so, keeping his touch small and light. Keith shuddered beneath it.

"Are you ticklish?" Lance asked, heart pounding. He hoped that's all it was.

"Dunno. I think I'm just not used to it."

Lance could have choked, embarrassment making his ears sting. "You know, it’s not like I do this every day either-"

"I meant touchy stuff in general," Keith murmured. He took a hand off Lance's chest to wrap it round his wrist instead, holding his hand in place. "I like this though. It's nice."

"It is," Lance whispered. He didn't know why he whispered, but it felt right. He really wanted this to go right. This once.

"Can I hug you?" Lance asked, wishing he sounded more sure of himself, less needy, even if he did _need_ to feel skin against skin. Keith stepped into it, folding his arms around Lance's neck so they could press their bodies together. Keith was comfortably cool and pale against Lance's feverish caramel, solid and perfect and Keith-shaped.

He didn’t have to ask for the kiss, it happened as soon as they were steady. They breathed each other's air until the kiss was wet and sloppy, hungry and careless. Keith made a noise into Lance's mouth that lit a fire in his navel and made him close his eyes and pull back to swallow and swear.

"Keith that's _stupid_ hot. You're killing me."

Keith responded with the slightest tilt of his hips towards Lance's, which moved everything in just the right way in just the right place and made him see spots, spurring him to push back. A part of Lance's mind that sounded oddly like Hunk took to looping _oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh_ while the rest worked on not losing control of his pelvis altogether.

" _Keith_ -"

It was meant to be a warning, something to let Keith know what he was doing to Lance before the Cuban boy was too carried away, but saying Keith's name seemed to do something for him. He made another indescribable noise that made parts of Lance flip and locked their lips together, tongue working inside his mouth. Keith was an armful of smoothness and friction, cold and heat, pressing and rutting against Lance like he'd never felt anything so good. If he felt anything like as good as Lance did, he probably hadn't.

Damp spots were spreading on their underwear when Keith's knees buckled. He fell into Lance, who stumbled under the extra weight before pushing back to press Keith into the wall. Keith's fingers tightened into Lance's hair and he moaned pleasure into his mouth. With a little jump he wrapped his legs round Lance's middle, and after a little slipping Lance caught him under the thighs. The angle changed, and everything that was good, so good but not quite enough before became perfect and too much all at once.

He wasn't sure who came first, but he hoped it was Keith. Lance floated on the white wave for a while, giddy and listless and happy, other sensations coming back only slowly. The sticky wetness in his boxer-briefs was cold and slimy, and his back and his calves were aching a little from holding Keith up. Lance thanked whatever might be listening that he hadn’t dropped him. Lance kept him up until he felt Keith wriggle, then set him down on the floor as gently as he could manage.

"You okay?"

Keith nodded, and Lance breathed out and dropped his sweaty forehead to Keith's equally sweaty shoulder.

"I can't believe we didn’t even get all the way naked."

"Worked for me," Keith said, craning his head up.

"Yeah, yeah man." Lance agreed, taking the opportunity to nuzzle against Keith's neck. "That was amazing. You’re perfect."

His voice cracked, and Keith's hands unwrapped from his neck and loosely held his sides instead.

"Nobody’s perfect,” Keith replied, like it was a mantra, something he’d learned after being told, probably by Shiro. Lance heard him swallow a few times, wet sounds close to his ear. “But you were pretty close.”

Lance’s fingers tightened on Keith’s back. “Yeah?” he asked. He looked up with his heart beating a swift tattoo in his chest, grin spreading. “Close to perfect? Like _nearly_ perfect? How close was I?”

“…and there’s Lance,” Keith groaned, rolling his eyes. But his nose was screwed up, so Lance knew he didn’t mean it. "Very, okay? Now can we please go shower? This feels gross.”

“ _We_ go shower? Shower together?” Lance squeaked. He wasn’t sure he could keep up with all this nervous whiplash.

Keith blushed, abruptly returning to shy despite the fact they were both mostly nude and clinging to each other. “S-sure. Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

Together, they made their way to the bathroom on slightly shaky legs, gasping as they slipped under blissfully hot water.

Lance didn’t sing on this occasion. He'd save that for next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe the wonderful response to this fic! More than 100 kudos? 1000 hits? Am I dreaming?
> 
> Thankyou for reading, bookmarking, and leaving kudos and comments. I can't tell you how touched I am.
> 
> I have other Voltron fics on the go, I hope you'll enjoy those too. 
> 
> Thankyou so much!


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